


Long Distance

by Whatsthewifi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsthewifi/pseuds/Whatsthewifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been quite a while since the two grown men had seen each other, the both going different ways since Marco moved away to another town. They tried long distance, but it wasn't same. Now they're both 27, and both living in Trost, and what was put together(forcefully), a small catch up with wine by Jeans husband, Armin, turns out not to go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

> God damn it.

"So," Jean sits back, tapping his finger on the couches leather arm, "how's it been, Marco?"

They sit in a dim room on the couch, a bottle of bitter wine that Jean had a fancy to, and a sweeter one Marco had himself. One glass for each pair of hands and a lonely heart being filled with alcohol every hour or so. Sip, sip, sip.

The theme in Marcos apartment had been red and clean, bright until this once where Marco had only one lamp on instead of a few around the house. For Jean. And of course Jean likes it dark and quiet, calm. Unbusy and free. Marco likes it bright and bustling, windows open and radio on- you get it by now.

Picture the inside of a small apartment how you would like, a flat screen on the other side of the room facing the couch, a few paintings or pictures hung, just, as said before, the theme is red and dim. 

"Almost the same, just without you." The brunettes eyes flicker up. "I had um, heard you've gotten married, Jean."

"Yeah. Armin, I took his last name."

Marco masks a smile onto his lips, quickly taking a slow sip before excusing his voice clearance. "Arlert? Not Kirschtein? I kind of like yours better, to be honest." 'I'd like yours to be mine.'

Jean shrugs and his gaze switches from the throw pillow to the tan rug sitting under the glass and wooden table. "I like his. Mine is a lot harder to spell. Yours only had four letters."

Marco chuckles and swirls his glass, practically having hard blinking with the invisible tears dripping off his eyelashes, air so thick and full of... Awkwardness that the limbs he moves have trouble to switch his wine from hand to hand. "Yeah, you could've taken it." He jokes, secretly meaning it. His tone of voice doesn't hide the fake smile that Jean can stare straight through.

"Well I couldn't have kept waiting for someone who just left me in the middle of the night to go pack the next morning, not even waking me to say goodbye."

"If-"

"It doesn't matter now." The blonde mutters harshly, making Marco shrink down. Jean almost chugs his buzz, thin lips wetting from the cold droplets sliding down his throat.

'If I had woken you Jean, you would've cried. You would've made me stay. I wish I had woken you.'

Jean sighs and leans back into the cushions. "I'm sorry Marco. How is your mother's business doing?"

The two men drank, and drank, and the strings being hung from the ceiling and tied to the two others body parts had loosened, and now they were laughing and giggling, slowly getting closer to each other. Not just mentally

But their forehead were almost pressed together, poisoned breath floating through the air. The oxygen smelt like raspberries and it felt warm.

"A-And then, Armin does this crab walk thing evr'y time he runs down th' stairs, and I c-can't help but laugh because, because pfffff-"

Marco starts cackling along, throwing his head back as he giggles.

Jean stops and looks at the others neck, feeling something drop in his stomach. A loss feeling. He remembers the last time he had ran his hand over the little spots and constellations covered all over such a wonderful man.

Marco finally calms down and looks back at Jean with such a bright smile, full of such adventurous wonder and happiness.

What beautiful lips.

They look so soft.

Marco tilts his head in confusion at the half lidded, still eyes. "Jeeean?"

...

"Jean,-"

...

Theres a gasp, and a cry, and a shatter. Jean shoved himself off Marco who looked as if he might cry.

"Fuck, sh-shit, shit, I'm so sorry, Marco."

Not only had he broke Marco, shards of shattered wine glasses pressed against the carpet. Jean stumbled up and over to the door, sputtering apologies.

Only the first one was to Marco.

"God, Armin, I'm s-sorry, I love you Armin, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

The door had clicked shut as cries of 'Armin' slipped past the blondes tongue while he stumbled down the steps to the first floor, Marco living on the third floor.

The freckled one sat, the nonexistent emotion from his eyelashes now admitted from ones tear ducks. The kiss had strangled him, holding by the throat and he couldn't say anything.

'But it was only a kiss!' You may cry, 'it wasn't that big of a deal!'

No, my dearest it was a kiss. But Jeans kisses only contained care or love.

Not everything mixed and bundled in between, tied together and knotted into one big extreme ball of the feel 'I still love you'.

'I still love you, Marco Bodt.

**Author's Note:**

> So, okay, you guys are expecting some Erejean youtubin' and fluff and cute shit but I - 
> 
> I have no.excuse besides 'oh god I'll do it tomorrow' I am so SorryyYY I haven't even started on the second chapter, but, hey! It's 12 am on a school night so have whatever the Frick this is! Okaaaay! 
> 
> Please yell at me to get youtubes done.
> 
> My tumblr is Marcos-moans, send me fan mail or asks or just yell at me In general about anything.


End file.
